


I'll use you as a focal point

by SkyScribbles



Series: A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Familiars, Gen, Loneliness, M/M, Post C2E99, Pre-Relationship, Redemption, Series of scenes, Sir this is Essek's emotional support fey spirit, Suggestions of emotionally abusive/distant parenting, The Shadowgast takes a while but it's there and they're pining, The laser pointer game with your pet but make it Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyScribbles/pseuds/SkyScribbles
Summary: There’s something new in the air, something obvious yet intangible, like a rise in temperature, a shift in scent.It’s her. It’s the familiar. A fey spirit in the form of a bat is chewing at Essek’s earrings, and for the first time, his towers are home to a living creature aside from him.(In which Essek adjusts to life with his new familiar.)
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874992
Comments: 68
Kudos: 769





	I'll use you as a focal point

**Author's Note:**

> Because Essek deserves a familiar, and I love bats. Though this is a follow-up to my fic 'Familiar (like my mirror years ago)', you don't need to have read that one to understand this.

Her name, Essek decides, will be U’nef. _Fortune._

She clambers up his tunic collar, tiny claws digging into the fabric, and he realises: the house is different. There’s something new in the air, something obvious yet intangible, like a rise in temperature, a shift in scent.

It’s her. It’s the familiar. A fey spirit in the form of a bat is chewing at Essek’s earrings, and for the first time, his towers are home to a living creature aside from him.

‘Well,’ he says, and hesitates, because talking to guests is awkward enough, and he’s not sure he even remembers how to talk to someone who _lives_ with him. ‘So. This is the material plane. And this – ’ He waves at the lights and towers beyond the window – ‘is Rosohna.’

U’nef continues to nibble his earring. Essek is not sure how the business of sharing a telepathic link is supposed to work, but it can’t be too complex. He closes his eyes, focuses on her presence, and thinks, _if you could perhaps not devour my jewellery?_

The nibbling stops. U’nef’s wings flash out, and Essek holds out his hands as she flutters into them.

‘I suppose I should… show you around?’ Why is he waiting for a response? She’s a _bat. ‘_ This is my laboratory: a place for casting and creating spells.’

He shouldn’t have said that. It triggers memories of notes passed between himself and Nott and Caleb, and Caleb’s eyes bright with focus, and Caleb’s arm thrown around him, and Caleb –

Essek swallows, and drifts out of the room.

He carries U’nef into every corner of his house: his study, his bedroom, the barely-used dining room and never-used guest room. And, yes, that shift in the air is present in every corner. Every bookshelf and curtain rail is now a place where U’nef could perch and climb, every potion vial is a danger that Essek should seal away as soon as possible, before she tries to eat the bottles and spills something dangerous on herself. He could resummon her, of course; he remembers, vividly, what Caleb said when he taught Essek this spell. _They cannot die_. _It’s safe to love them._

Essek discovers, anyway, that the thought of U’nef dying is nauseating.

As he carries her through the house, he talks. These rooms are so rarely filled with a living voice, but now Essek talks and talks about how long he’s lived here, and how strange it is to have someone else sharing it with him, and how he does have a few friends who have visited once or twice – but who are unlikely to visit very often, anymore.

‘You were a gift from one of them,’ Essek says, sinking down onto a chair in his living room and letting U’nef settle on his chest. ‘Caleb – he’s an arcanist himself – he gave me the spell I used to summon you. He said it would do me good to have you.’ And then he’s telling U’nef everything about Caleb: his brilliant mind, the fearsome eloquence that breaks through his usual awkwardness, his implacable kindness. And then he talks about Jester, how she energises every place she enters. Caduceus’s gentle comfort and excellent cooking. Fjord’s unexpected playfulness. Beau’s blunt, refreshing honesty. Veth, all sharp edges and sharper wits. Yasha’s surprising softness.

It’s maybe an hour later that his throat runs dry and he stops. U’nef is still staring up at him, listening, and Essek realises that there’s something he hasn’t told her.

He licks the dryness from his mouth. ‘And I’m, ah. I’m Essek.’

U’nef chitters softly, and it sounds a bit like laughter.

* * *

A week later, Essek sits in the Bright Queen’s court with U’nef clinging to his tunic, hidden underneath his cloak.

It’s a little foolish, perhaps. But U’nef refused to be left behind, flitting around his head and cheeping furiously as he tried to leave the house. And he could have dismissed her, or ordered her to stay, but – well, it’s not as if this does any _harm._ He’s told her to stay quiet and still, and her presence adds something new to the usual tedium.

(And he didn’t _want_ to dismiss U’nef. He’s grown so used to having her around, a little spot of warmth inside his cloak.)

The speaker from Den Olios says something that pierces through his boredom, and Essek leans forward to listen. Something about fiends in the villages near the Ashkeepers. The Bright Queen orders a regiment to be dispatched to deal with the problem, and Essek scratches U'nef's ears and thinks, _hm._ His mind is often on the Mighty Nein these days, but now there’s a reason for it other than guilt or loneliness: memories of what brought first brought them to this chamber. Fiends, appearing beneath Asarius. And then he remembers the Deepriver Mines, the people who took Yasha –

He flicks his eyes over the court. The conversation is moving on. No one else has made the connection; no one is speaking.

He needs to speak. The Mighty Nein will want to know; they’ll want to be the ones investigating. They would be so grateful, they might even trust him a little again – but the conversation is over, a decision has been made. And the umavi is only a few rows away. She will say that Xhorhas will never gain respect in the eyes of its neighbours if it continues to use a band of outsiders to solve its problems. She will say that Essek’s request will make the Dynasty look weak, as if it is tiptoeing around the Empire. That it will make Essek look weak, Den Thelyss look weak. Essek’s mouth is dry. He can face the umavi’s disapproval, he _can,_ but he doesn't _want_ to _–_

U’nef shifts under his cloak. And Essek is gripped by a sudden, absurd desire not to disappoint her.

He breathes in, rehearses his words in his head. Then he rises from his seat and waits for the Bright Queen to take notice. Which she does, holding up a hand to silence the current speaker and turning to face him. ‘Shadowhand?’

Essek bows. Focuses on U’nef’s warmth against his chest. ‘My apologies for interrupting. Something has occurred to me concerning Den Olios’s request. You recall the Cult of the Angel of Irons?’

‘Of course.’ There’s a hard edge in the Bright Queen’s voice; she has not, of course, forgotten that one of the cult’s number is supposed to have sold the beacons to the Empire. ‘You believe they might be responsible for this latest fiendish incursion?’

‘It would be wise for us to act as if they are. Sending soldiers to the frontier, so soon after a fragile peace has been made…’ Essek pauses, waiting a few moments for the implications to sink in. ‘It would be easy for the Empire to misinterpret the gesture, if there is a cult lurking in the wings to ensure that it _is_ misinterpreted. But my charges, the Mighty Nein - as a neutral party, their actions will reflect less on the Dynasty if the cult intends any political misunderstandings. They also have intimate knowledge of the cult, and will stand a better chance of uncovering their plans than regular soldiers.’ And because U’nef is crawling into the crook of his arm, and U’nef is a gift from Caleb, Essek adds, ‘I vouch, once again, for their capabilities. And their trustworthiness.’

A pause. Then, ‘Very well. Dusk Captain – hold off on any military action for now. Shadowhand – contact the Mighty Nein at your earliest convenience.’

Essek bows again, and drifts back down into his seat. The conversation continues, and Essek breathes out, gathers himself, counts down thirty seconds, and risks shooting a glance at his mother.

She is looking straight at him.

Essek’s insides twist. He shouldn’t have looked, he should _not have looked –_ but he keeps his face blank, forces himself to meet her eyes. He's so very grateful for his cloak, because it means his hands are invisible as he reaches for U’nef and holds on tight.

His mother watches him for one second more. Impassive. Appraising. Then she turns back to watch the proceedings.

The meeting closes, and Essek hurries for the exit while trying to mask the fact that he’s hurrying. But the foyer is filled with people – why are there so damn _many_ of them, why do they have to stand _right there_ to hold their conversations, why can’t they get out of his _way_ – and then a researcher from the Conservatory asks for a word. By the time Essek has finished explaining that no, he will not allow Professor Waccoh to ‘borrow’ a few items from his library, the umavi is heading in his direction.

She will call after Essek if he tries to leave. He felt less trapped in the hold of the Mighty Nein’s ship, less trapped when Caleb locked him in chains. He’s been rehearsing a speech for her from the moment he sat down, of course – _the Dynasty must show its commitment to this new peace –_ but he can never predict what the umavi will say, and he knows that he’ll go numb and silent and stupid as soon as she opens her mouth –

U’nef is gone.

There’s no rustling presence inside his cloak, no little weight on his chest. Essek whirls around, ignoring the heads that turn to him, and just manages to stop himself from sagging with relief when he sees U’nef flitting across the foyer a short way away. She must have slipped out the back of his cloak without him noticing. Her wings are soundless as she flits past the ear of the departing Dusk Captain, then turns in mid-air and beelines back towards Essek.

The Dusk Captain stops, her gaze sweeping the hall for whatever brushed past her. There’s a pause as she spots U’nef, now dangling upside-down from one of the spikes of Essek’s mantle. Then she crosses the room to stand before him. ‘Shadowhand. I didn’t know you had a familiar.’

Essek nods, swallowing down the scream of frustration and panic that he would very much like to release. He cannot possibly break conversation with Quana Kryn herself to see what the umavi is doing. It’s like having a stinging insect in the room and not knowing where it is. ‘I, ah, do. U’nef is a recent –’ He means to say _acquirement,_ but reconsiders – ‘acquaintance. A gift from the Mighty Nein’s arcanist.’

The Captain frowns, but it’s curiosity, Essek thinks, not disapproval. ‘The human? You’ve been tutoring him in dunamancy, correct?’

There’s a sweep of movement to Essek’s left. The umavi. His gut constricts, but she walks past without looking at him. Of course; it would be poor form for her to interrupt a conversation with the Dusk Captain, just to reprimand her son.

If U’nef were back beneath his cloak, Essek might hug her for a solid minute. She is a genius. She drew Quana’s attention, bought him a beautiful, blessed reprieve.

Speaking is so much easier with the umavi gone, and it seems suddenly important that the Dusk Captain should appreciate Caleb as much as Essek does. ‘He’s a quick learner, and a quicker inventor. And a good friend.’

Her eyebrows shift upwards. Ah. Essek has surprised her. He expects it’s the _friend_ part that did it. ‘It’s good to know that the Empire and Dynasty can make exchanges for better reasons, and under better circumstances, than the trade I made recently.’

Essek tries not to think about what might happen if she knew she were speaking to the man responsible for that trade. ‘I believe we can.’

She looks at him for a moment, and there’s a trace of a smile at the edge of her lips. ‘We need belief like that. You spoke up today in the name of preserving a delicate, hard-won peace. I won’t forget that, Essek.’

There’s something odd in her voice. Appreciation, perhaps, or pride. Essek fumbles for a response and settles, feebly, on ‘I'm glad to have helped.’

The Captain smiles. ‘It was good to meet your small friend,’ she says, and strides away towards the exit.

The moment she’s gone, U’nef drops from her perch and slips back beneath the folds of Essek’s cloak. Essek pulls her close to his chest and thinks, fiercely: _thank you._

* * *

‘U’nef. Please. I’m trying to work.’

U’nef pays no attention whatsoever, and continues her efforts to devour the end of his quill. Essek tugs it away. ‘I know you’re bored. But if you carry on like this, I _will_ send you to your pocket dimension. Give me half an hour.’

That should be all the time he needs to finish transcribing Caleb’s Transmogrification spell. It’s an intricate business, and he has no desire to waste the ink by allowing U’nef to distract him. Especially considering that this spell could be his saving grace, should the delicate web of concealment he’s built fall apart.

(Not that he wants to use it. His appearance is one of the few things about himself that he’s comfortable with. But there’s no harm in having yet another contingency plan.)

U’nef launches herself at his quill again, and Essek, without looking at her, raises his hand and prestidigitates a small vibration in the air. He expects it to shake her off course, and it does – what he doesn’t expect is for her to wheel in-mid air and snap at the vibration, as if at an invisible insect.

Intrigued, Essek casts another, this one a little further away. U’nef springs at it, the way Essek has occasionally seen Frumpkin pounce at Caleb’s dancing lights.

Essek glances at his half-transcribed spell. Then at U’nef, who is flitting in expectant circles around his head. She lets out a pleading cheep, and his resolve fractures.

As he stands in the centre of his study, prestidigitating echo after echo for her to chase, watching her loop and dance about the room, he tries to think of the last time he did something like this. Something pointless, playful, unproductive. Just for fun. Just because it makes him smile. He can’t remember, and that –

That frightens him.

But it’s easy to forget the fear. Because U’nef is emitting the most gleeful squeaks. Because Essek is laughing. Her excitement is so infectious, and _Light_ he loves her, and it would be so wonderful to experience the what she’s feeling. The uncomplicated happiness of being a small, soft-furred bat with echoes to chase. And he _could_ experience it. He could transfer into U’nef’s senses. Fly out into Rosohna, as far as his bond with U’nef will let him go – not far, he knows, but enough to see the world as she does, through echo and vibration. He could open a window and fly out and leave his body behind, leave everything behind, just for a few minutes –

Already halfway to the window, Essek stops.

 _Leave his body behind._ His body. Blind and deaf and defenceless, with a target of his own making painted on his back.

Essek closes his eyes. He can’t. He _can't._ The chances of a Scourger breaking in, or the Aurora Watch bursting in to arrest him, are infinitesimal. But they exist, and he cannot gamble everything for five minutes of flight. He grits his teeth, returns to his desk, and sits back down. The transmogrification spell lies before him, half-finished.

U’nef chirrups, and nudges his hand. Tries to pull his quill away, and when that fails, she bites into his tunic and tugs in the direction of the window.

Essek snaps his fingers, and in a plume of smoke, U’nef is gone.

* * *

Essek is used to having Jester’s messages interrupt his day. So it’s a surprise when the voice that manifests from nowhere one evening is quiet, with no unnecessary singing, and doesn’t ask a single overly personal question.

‘This is Caleb,’ it says – unnecessarily, because Essek could know that voice just from the sound of the breaths between the words. ‘Are you at home? I’m outside, if you’re not busy. You can reply to this message.’

Essek freezes. Then shakes himself. ‘It’s good to hear from you, Caleb. I’ll come and let you in.’

Caleb is waiting outside the front gate, Frumpkin curled around his shoulders like a secondary scarf. Essek manages a smile, and he doesn’t expect to have it returned, because Caleb’s smiles are so rare and so carefully given – but it still makes an emptiness yawn in his gut when all he receives is a nod.

‘It’s good to have you returned,’ Essek says. ‘The others aren’t with you?’

‘No. I told them I was going to buy paper and ink. And I did buy paper and ink, but then I came here. I wanted to see if you had tried – ’ Caleb stops. His eyes are on U’nef, perched on Essek’s shoulder, and the smile he didn’t give a moment ago is creeping onto his face. ‘Oh. You _did_ try that spell.’

‘I did.’ Essek turns, angling his shoulders so that Caleb can get a better look. ‘U’nef, this is Caleb Widogast; you have him to thank for being on this plane with us. Caleb – U’nef.’

Caleb reaches out to stroke her, his smile widening as she flicks her ears and chitters at him. ‘You have matching fangs.’

Essek chuckles. ‘Yes. The same ears, too.’

‘She’s not as good as a cat, but she’s _beautiful._ Her name is Undercommon?’

‘It means _fortune._ I –’ Essek glances away, suddenly, guiltily aware of how very _personal_ a gesture the name might seem. ‘The Find Familiar spell was a gift from you. It seemed only right to name U’nef for… for the first spell that one of us shared with the other.’

Caleb’s smile has faded, but not in a cold way; his expression is thoughtful. And Essek wonders if he suspects the other reason for U’nef’s name: that Essek’s skin still remembers the feel of Caleb’s lips. Warm and fierce, pressed to the same place that Caleb might place a pearl to twist time and gift Essek a second chance.

He beckons Caleb inside, and he really shouldn’t take so much pleasure in how Caleb leaves his scarf and coat in the entryway without needing to be invited.

‘Would she like some bread?’ Caleb asks, and when Essek stares, he adds, ‘We, um, once had to sneak into somewhere, so I became into a bat. I don’t remember all that much about it, but I do remember spending a lot of time trying to find bread.’

Essek smiles. ‘It’s not easy to imagine you with the intellect of a bat.’

‘It wasn’t so bad. Especially the flying part.’ Caleb’s eyes flicker onto U’nef. ‘Have you tried it yet? Flying? Through her.’

‘I… no.’ Essek looks away. ‘I didn’t think it wise to leave my body undefended. I may be used to manipulating fate, but that doesn’t mean I want to tempt it.’

There’s a pause. Caleb looks at him, in that arresting Caleb way, and it goes on long enough that Essek starts to feel bizarrely as if he has let Caleb down – and then Caleb pulls out his spellbook and sits down, cross-legged, on the floor of Essek’s living room.

Essek’s first impulse is to be thrilled that Caleb is so willing to make himself at home. His second is bewilderment. ‘What are you –?’

He stops; Caleb has set a crystal bead down on the floor in front of him, and Essek forgets his confusion amid his curiosity towards the spell. The runes Caleb is weaving through the air appear to be evocation, the incantation is invoking a warding effect –

Caleb completes the spell with a flick of his finger, and a small, translucent dome materialises around them. ‘There,’ Caleb says, with satisfaction. ‘Now you are not undefended. Nothing can get through the dome unless I want it to, and… I will be here.’

It’s Essek’s turn to stare. There’s heat in his throat, suddenly, and dryness. Because this is such an earnest gesture. Because this is, effectively, a declaration that Caleb will stand between Essek and anyone who might come for him. Because Essek knows that Caleb shows affection with his magic, says with his spells what he can’t with his words, and what he’s saying right now is _I want to protect you. I want you keep you safe so that you can know the simple happiness of being a bat._

Essek knows this. He doesn’t need Caleb to say it. But he says ‘Why?’ anyway, because he’s selfish, because he is so desperate to hear someone – to hear _Caleb_ – saying out loud that Essek _matters._

‘Because being a bat is fun. And your life is pretty tense right now, I think, and you should get to do something that’s just for you. Not for your research; for you.’

Caleb taps the floor, and Essek settles down next to him, facing resolutely forward so that Caleb can’t see his eyes and see how much they’re stinging. ‘I will give you a nudge if anything happens,’ Caleb says. ‘Be glad you’re not doing this with Beauregard. It hurts, from her.’

And before Essek can prepare himself, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Gentle. Firm.

A month ago Essek might have flinched, drawn in a breath between his teeth, pulled away. But he’s grown so used to having U’nef around, to feeling another living thing touching him and being gentle – and that familiar urge to retreat, to draw in all the parts of himself that could be hurt by Caleb’s kindness, simply does not come.

Seconds pass. Caleb’s hand is warm, and Essek is very, very aware of the beating of his own heart.

He swallows, and beckons mentally to U’nef. She flutters onto the floor before him, tiny body poised and ready. Essek breathes in and out, closes his eyes, and lets his awareness shrink down to two points: the tug of his mental tether with U’nef, and the soft security of Caleb’s hand on his shoulder.

He feels so very safe. It’s not because of the dome.

‘Thank you, Caleb,’ he says, and lets go.

And the world shifts and shimmers into a haze of sound and feeling, and the draft through the open window is brushing against his wings. He can sense every shift of air in the room, every breath in Caleb’s lungs, every twinge of his pulse. Every heartbeat of his own body, sitting motionless at Caleb’s side.

It’s a strange experience. This is not his body, and U’nef’s mind is still present beneath his own. And yet it doesn’t feel remotely vulnerable, or invasive, to be a visitor in someone else’s skin. It feels like being not alone.

Essek suggests, silently, that U’nef spread her wings. She does, and in a moment they’re rising. Out of the window and into the waiting night.

* * *

In the warmth of the tiny hut, Caleb waits.

Next to him, Essek is motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest. It’s odd, seeing his eyes so vacant; odd enough that it might be unnerving, if not for the way he’s smiling. Not the practiced, cool smile of the Shadowhand, but something soft and relaxed and ever so slightly breathless. _Happy._

He has never seen Essek like this before. And it is, Caleb thinks, a privilege.

‘She’s doing him a lot of good,’ Caleb says, and Frumpkin wriggles down from Caleb’s shoulders and jumps into his lap. ‘It’s better for him not to be alone. To have someone he can always be honest with, without being afraid that she might leave him.'

Frumpkin purrs, and Caleb tugs him a little closer. ‘Which, you know. It tells you a little bit about how I feel about you.’

They watch the dark outside the window together, and wait for Essek to return.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'I Found' by Amber Run. Huge thanks to the Essek discord for helping me figure out U'nef headcanons and pick her name!


End file.
